


Busy in the Shower

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: F/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7932892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'“No, I’m not in the middle of anything,” she said, though her heart gave a flutter at his thoughtfulness. Since that incident in Hope’s Peak with the sauna and Hifumi and Yasuhiro, Makoto had made good progress. She folded her arms over her chest. “Actually, I planned to get busy with you.”<br/>His eyes widened. “W-With me?”<br/>Kyouko flicked her head back but swiftly returned it to its original position. “We’re going to shower together.”<br/>“S-Shower...?”<br/>“That’s right.”'</p><p>Kirigiri takes a shower with Naegi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Busy in the Shower

As luck would have it, right after work, Yasuhiro and Makoto tagged along with Byakuya to the closest DIY store, which wasn’t really all that close, and ten minutes ago, Aoi waved her hand before leaving for the grocery store with Komaru. Therefore, when Kyouko stood in the hallway, back pressed against the door to her apartment, and spotted Touko walking toward her own apartment with a satchel slung over one of her shoulders, there existed little chance of anyone else eavesdropping on them so Kyouko marched over to Touko before Touko could disappear into her apartment.

“Fukawa-san,” said Kyouko and in contrast to her smooth tone, she slammed the palm of her hand into the wall so her arm formed a barrier in front of Touko, blocking her path.

Touko jumped back at the thump from the sudden movement. Her hands shrivelled up into fists below her chin, elbows tucked into her sides. She dragged her foot back and after a few seconds, forced herself to look away from Kyouko’s hand, eyes drifting along Kyouko’s straight arm and settling on Kyouko’s narrowed eyes.

No one else was anywhere nearby.

“W-What...?” Here, a pause as Touko swallowed. “What is it that you want? How long were you waiting for me l-like some kind of stalker?”

There was no easy way to do this, so Kyouko thought it best to just get right to the point. No faffing around, no spiels. Just the point. She breathed in, bracing herself for either being blown away by a scream or sucked in by a sharp gasp.

“Have you ever written about shower sex?” she asked Touko.

Prior to this, Kyouko spent a fair amount of time deliberating on who to approach with her queries. Komaru, the younger sister of Kyouko’s boyfriend, Makoto, had been crossed off immediately for both the adjective and noun present in ‘younger sister’. A possible candidate that had passed her mind was Aoi, and for a few seconds, Kyouko chewed on her lip as she thought that she might have to go to her friend who had no interest in doing things in showers with guys, but then her mind skipped over to an image of Touko’s face.

To be honest, Touko should have been Kyouko’s first choice. According to Komaru, Touko used to give love advice on internet forums on top of writing a lot of romance novels and though Kyouko and Touko weren’t exactly close, a certain bond was to be had after enduring the same mutual killing scenario. Besides, Touko had never had much of a filter when it came to the topic of -

“S-S-S-?” went Touko, hissing and stuttering the whole time while Kyouko, neither pulled in nor thrown back by Touko’s noises, had been lost in thought. Touko raised her hands to where her twin braids used to be before she started styling her hair in a single braid that hung down her spine, probably intending to tug on them, but unable to, her fingers simply grasped at thin air.

Kyouko rubbed the back of one of her ears. “You don’t have to shout.”

“I-If you don’t want me to shout, don’t spring conversation topics like that on me without consent!” Touko snapped, high-pitched.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” said Kyouko, picking at a cuticle. There was some silence, and seeing that Touko seemed to have no immediate plans beyond glaring at the floor, Kyouko said, “Well, have you?”

“Have I what?” mumbled Touko, who couldn’t have lost track of the conversation so soon.

Kyouko frowned. “Have you written a scene about shower sex?”

Though Touko let out another series of ‘s-s-s-!’ noises, this one didn’t last as long as the previous one. She relaxed her body, shoulders falling and hands hovering by her navel.

“... T-The work that I’m known for doesn’t contain anything that’s blatantly racy or lewd like that,” said Touko. “There are scenes that are... titillating... but I know you haven’t read anything of mine and you don’t plan to either, so there’s no point in you pretending to indulge me.”

Touko focused now on Kyouko’s face, scowling.

“E-Even though I have glasses, I can see through you clearly! D-Did you ask me so you could make fun of me if I had written it?” asked Touko, teeth bared between words. “Were you hoping to derive amusement from the idea of a virgin writing smut? W-Well...”

She pulled her lips out in a grin.

“... t-the joke’s on you, because I’m not-”

Kyouko whipped up her hand. “Fukawa-san, if I tell you my motive, you must promise that you will not inform anyone of our conversation. Not Togami-kun, not Komaru-chan, not anyone.”

Touko flinched.

“Talking so aggressively...! W-Why should I trust you not to kill me after I give you what you need?” asked Touko.

“I don’t have time for this,” said Kyouko. “Do you or do you not know about the inner workings of sex in the shower? Fukawa-san, you’re the only person who I can count on to tell me.”

That caused Touko’s face to twitch, which wasn’t necessarily bad.

“C-Come inside,” muttered Touko. Kyouko required a moment to comprehend what Touko said, but when Kyouko understood, she withdrew her hand from the wall and allowed Touko to pass through.

Five minutes later, Touko and Kyouko were sat on the leather couch in Touko’s living room. The apartment block was stationed within walking distance of the Future Foundation building that the seven of them worked at. Seven, including Komaru, who joined the organisation as an intern last month, much to Touko’s satisfaction. In their barest forms, the apartments all had the same layout. A small hallway, a living room, a bedroom, a kitchen area and a bathroom. Prior to Touko’s return from Towa City, everyone had to pitch in to clean the place up so she wouldn’t be subjected to any dust.

As a result, when Kyouko breathed in, she didn’t cough or sneeze.

“It smells like baking,” she noted aloud.

“Cinnamon, actually,” corrected Touko and she turned her head to give a nod in the direction of the reed diffuser on the coffee table nearby. Both girls studied the reed diffuser, glass jar of clear oil and wooden sticks and all, and it was Touko who looked away first. “L-Let me guess... you want to get kinky in the shower with Naegi.”

Years of perfecting her mask and hiding away strong, shameful emotions did not prepare Kyouko for Touko’s remark. The mask cracked as heat rushed up to her face.

Touko chuckled, wiggling her fingers. “I thought so. A-And, you know, I can tell that you’re an amateur...”

Kyouko’s eyebrows squished together.

“Oh?” she said. “How?”

“B-Because only they would think shower sex was a good idea,” Touko explained.

Against her better judgment, Kyouko said, “Please, explain.”

Touko shimmied in her seat and then sat up straighter, grin wide. “Well, if you have a shred of common sense, most of it won’t be actual s-sex. It’ll be foreplay. You know what that is, don’t you?”

Kyouko did, so she nodded.

“Well, shower sex is not at all what it’s hyped up to be. I understand your deal. You had sex, want to shake things up, add excitement to spice your vanilla sex lives... W-Well, first of all, the only safe position involves the receiver bent over while the other person plunges in from behind.” Touko clasped her hands together, chin up. Glasses gleaming. “It’s not the time for gymnastics... so u-unless you want to rip off your shower curtain and possibly wind up in a hospital bed, you shouldn’t hike your leg up... You would do best to keep both of your feet flat against the floor and let him hump you... assuming you’re the one in front, of course.”

Thankfully, Touko didn’t wait for a clarification from Kyouko on who would be in front, and prattled on after a long, trembling intake of breath without prompt.

“You will want to avoid the water. It will wash away your natural lubrication, so unless you bring some in with you that’s silicon-based, it won’t be comfortable if you’re letting yourself be drenched,” Touko told Kyouko, and her lips thrashed wordlessly for a few seconds as she trailed off. Her expression tightened and her eyes flitted back to Kyouko. “Have you got any other questions?”

“No, I think you explained it well enough to me,” said Kyouko. She stood up slowly, not sure if she would leave Touko’s apartment the same person as arriving. “Thank you, Fukawa-san. That was... enlightening. Though...”

Touko eyed her.

“... you must know this much about it for a reason,” said Kyouko. “Was it for an unpublished book, by chance?”

“Sure,” said Touko, not reciprocating eye contact.

Kyouko raised her eyebrows but didn’t question Touko further. She plucked her phone out of her shirt’s front pocket and as she headed back to her own apartment, she sent Aoi a text message asking her to buy some non-toxic flavoured shower gel. In her own living quarters, Kyouko sprawled her legs across the seats of her couch and tapped her phone’s screen, requesting Makoto come over at eight O’Clock that night.

Now, the wait.

* * *

 

The digits on Kyouko’s phone announced the time to be drawing near the hour and the doorbell rang a minute before the hour hit. Kyouko had got up a total of four times since she sat down after her visit to Touko. Once to make dinner, twice to eat dinner, a third time to answer the door to Aoi and lastly to use the bathroom. Now, she upped the count to five, and she tossed to the side the detective novel that Yasuhiro gave Kyouko last month for her birthday, price label scratched off so white flecks clung to one corner of its back cover. It landed on the seat beside the one that she had been occupying.

She walked over to the door and pulled it open. Makoto beamed at her. A small smile tugged at her lips.

“I would have been here earlier, but you know what the other two are like,” he said. “Did you know they’re selling talking toilets for the home now?”

“I see,” she replied. She stepped aside so he could enter. “I gave you a spare key so you can come in as soon as you arrive, you know.”

Makoto shrugged off his jacket and pinned it between his arm and side. “I know, but I don't want to barge in while you’re in the middle of something.”

He craned his neck toward Kyouko, who leaned toward him, cheek first, so he could peck her.

“No, I’m not in the middle of anything,” she said, though her heart gave a flutter at his thoughtfulness. Since that incident in Hope’s Peak with the sauna and Hifumi and Yasuhiro, Makoto had made good progress. She folded her arms over her chest. “Actually, I planned to get busy with you.”

His eyes widened. “W-With me?”

Kyouko flicked her head back but swiftly returned it to its original position. “We’re going to shower together.”

“S-Shower...?”

“That’s right.”

He nodded, cheeks flushed.

Kyouko clicked her tongue, suspecting that her face was beginning to match the colour of his, judging by the spreading warmth. Without telling him to follow, she strode over to her bathroom. Once inside, she unbuttoned her shirt and peeled it off, eyes down.

“Can I come in, Kyouko?” he asked. The acoustics suggested that he hadn’t come in through the door, which she had left ajar.

She was only going to become more indecent as she shed more of her clothes. Her lips tingled as she suppressed a laugh, resulting in the ends of her lips simply curling upward.

“You may,” she said, and she watched the door open. Kyouko’s shoulders hunched at Makoto’s quiet intake of breath and instinctively, she turned her back on him, hiding the most intimate area of her body from his view. Her hands.

“I guess I should get naked too,” he said.

“That would be ideal,” said Kyouko.

His clothing rustled behind her as he discarded them. Both had already seen the other nude, and though he and the others had seen the scars on Kyouko’s hands, usually hidden in gloves, she felt self-conscious wearing absolutely nothing, right there and then.

“Are you ready?” she asked, betraying no unease.

“Y-Yeah,” he said, and when she walked into the shower cubicle, she heard him pad in after her. The first steps chilled the soles of her bare feet, but by the time she was an arm’s length away from the shower controls, she had grown used to it and the cold no longer shot through her legs.

Each bathroom in this block was not very generous in space and had been fitted with a shower cubicle rather than a bath. She untied her braid, lifted her chin, adjusted the angle of the shower head and twisted the dial on the wall.

Water like spikes sprayed down, hissing, but she had anticipated the low temperature and stayed far enough back that not much spat on her. Kyouko waited for the water to warm before she stepped forward, into its heart.

A soft groan slipped out of Kyouko, and her eyes crept shut. The shower water continued fizzing.

“Naegi-kun,” she said, not yet on a mutually first name basis with him.

“Y-Yuh?” he went.

‘Yuh?’ That sounded like a cross between ‘yeah’ and ‘huh’.

Whatever.

“Is any water reaching you back there?” she asked, not turning around.

“Some,” he said.

Now she let herself look at him from over her shoulder. Makoto was naked too. Which obviously he would be. Her skin prickled.

“I won’t be long,” she promised. She grabbed her purple loofah off the shower shelf, and the lime shower gel that she retrieved from Aoi earlier, and she squirted some onto the loofah, which she then squeezed, trying to get as much of the gel to seep through the folds of the rosehead-shaped loofah as she could.

Initially, she kept her back to Makoto and her face forward as she scrubbed herself, starting with her arms. After the first few scrapes, she peeked over her shoulder, and seeing him look away, she smirked.

To improve his view, she turned so he could see the front of her. He returned his gaze to Kyouko, probably instinctively, and shivered. Her smirk shrunk, leaving behind a slight smile, and she rubbed the loofah harder against her arms, ensuring that she didn’t block his view of her chest. Two strands of hair hung over her breasts, plastered in place by the water, though neither strand concealed the discoloured area on her breasts.

Makoto swallowed, unable to fix his eyes onto any one part of her body.

Once Kyouko’s arms were faintly pink and dusted with bubbles, she progressed onto her stomach, purposely cleaning below her breasts. Despite the action taking place there, she noticed that his eyes would wander to a place higher. Staring at his averted eyes, she bent forward and washed her legs. Thigh, knee, thigh, knee, shin, knee, thigh, knee, shin. Other leg. Kyouko massaged her skin, heel of the leg she was washing not in contact with the tiled surface.

To think, she had considered the floor cold.

She tended to her feet, which didn’t take very long, and straightened up. Their eyes met and Makoto shut his mouth.

“Would you do my back?” she asked, and she lifted a hand to budge some hair away from her lips

“I’d love to do you,” he blurted. He realised what he said within seconds but still too late, and jumped, waving his hands. “I mean... wash your back. I’d love to wash your back!”

Kyouko bit down a smile. She stood up properly and turned her back on him, though she still looked at Makoto from over her shoulder, arm back, holding the loofah toward him.

“Please do,” she said, and he came up behind her. He took the loofah from Kyouko and swept her hair away from her back, positioning it over her shoulders so the entirety of her back was on show.

He started at the top of her back, brushing from side to side. The loofah tickled, caked in suds.

“Can you not do it any harder?” she asked.

Makoto retracted his hand. “Huh?”

Kyouko gazed at him, head turned to one side.

“Am I being too light?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I don’t want to do it too rough,” he told her.

That elicited a small smile. “You won’t. If you do, I'll tell you.”

Makoto nodded. Kyouko faced forward and he brought the loofah against her again. This time, he stroked up and down more firmly. She arched her back. The touch didn’t shock Kyouko, but she became aware of her breathing, of every time she blinked. Without looking back, she reached her arm toward him. There was fumbling, and he said her name, confused, and she clutched his wrist, not the one holding the loofah.

Kyouko directed that hand to her waist. He continued scrubbing.

“Thank you, Naegi-kun,” she said, just audible. She stretched out her neck, eyes half shut and closing more against the torrent.

The lowest that he pressed the loofah into her was just above her bottom, but deciding that he had cleaned enough on this side, she grabbed his arm and pulled so his hand and the loofah were positioned in front of Kyouko.

To be precise, in front of her breasts.

“Here, now,” she said, face aflame.

Hand against his, she pushed the loofah against her left breast, laying his arm across her right breast. Makoto gargled a bit as he caught his breath. He recovered and managed to obey, drawing the loofah in circles, avoiding passing over her nipple, and though his movements had lost strength with the relocation of his hand, Kyouko didn’t mind. At all. In fact, she gave a quiet moan.

She shook her head, trying to pull off the hairs clinging to her wet breasts.

“You have to wash every part of them,” she said, and she barely finished her sentence when one of the folds in the loofah grazed her nipple. A gasp popped out of her.

He paused. Kyouko suspected he was gauging her reaction during these few moments, and reading her reaction correctly, he stroked the loofah across her nipple and this time, she felt his fingertips too. She gulped, body quivering, even after he gripped her waist harder.

Rather than restraining her, his hand made her shake more.

“N-Naegi-kun,” she mumbled. Makoto’s name got lost in the heavy buzz of the shower, sucked into the drain beneath their feet. “Squirt... some shower gel into your hands and use them instead...”

Not needing to be told twice, he shoved the loofah onto the shelf and snatched up the bottle of shower gel. While he stretched out his arm, his other hand almost fell off from her waist, but it didn’t, not quite, not until after he tilted his body back, bottle in his possession. Only then did he release her as he ejected some gel into his palm. Afterwards, Makoto put the bottle back onto the shelf carelessly, almost throwing it. The bottle teetered and would have toppled off the shelf had his hand not still been nearby, so he could jerk his hand back to it and catch it.

“Resume where you left off,” she said.

His hands squelched as he clasped them together. He cupped her breasts and started massaging. The biggest groan of the night so far poured out of her, like the water running down her skin. Without thinking, she hunched her shoulders, prompting him to push his body up against her from behind.

Makoto pressed his lips onto her neck and flicked out his wrists. Just as she felt his palms return to her shoulders, his hands moved down to her breasts. He fitted her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers and pinched.

Another involuntary moan broke out of Kyouko. Her legs wobbled and the rest of Kyouko tottered too. Makoto lost his hold on her temporarily, their slippery skin not helping, and reclaimed her breasts with a bolder grip. His hands got to work kneading on her plumpness, and though Kyouko’s shoulders were still up, they lost some height and weren’t as stiff so Makoto could nestle his nose and mouth against where shoulder met neck.

“You’re on tiptoes,” she said, threatening to melt under his fondling.

After a fleeting delay, his hands fell still, but he continued to exert constant pressure against her.

“I’m not that much shorter than you,” he whined.

Well, maybe ‘whined’ was too far, but his tone floated dangerously close to that.

Kyouko wiggled, grinning, and rolled her head back. Her chest heaved.

“And you wear heels,” he said, in a way that made her think he was pouting as he spoke.

The pads of his fingers stroked her breasts at a slow rhythm, over the curve of her breasts to her areolas, repeatedly.

“Even so, I’m taller than you regardless,” she said. Makoto responded by tweaking her nipples.

She jerked her head. Doing so angled her face toward the shower head so some water sprayed into her eyes. Her face scrunched up as she yelped.

“Are you all right, Kyouko?” asked Makoto. He loosened his hold of her breasts immediately.

“Some water just got into my eyes. It’s fine,” she replied. Kyouko rubbed the back of her hands against her eyes. Once done, she lowered her hands, blinking. She could still feel his hands against the sides of her breasts, but they were barely touching.

The room seemed to spin if she moved her head too much so trying to keep her head as still as possible, and squinting at the brightness of her surroundings that she hadn’t realised was so intense until now, she said, “Perhaps you could wash my hair...?”

“O-Of course,” he said. He withdrew his hands from her completely.

While he busied himself with skimming the labels of the four bottles on the shelf until he saw one labelled ‘shampoo’, Kyouko aimed the shower head at the floor, stepped back and dropped into a crouch. Very soon after falling into this position, she sat down properly, legs bent in front of her. She bowed her head and scratched her scalp, vision fuzzy.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Kyouko?” asked Makoto not much later. Ten seconds tops.

Kyouko nodded. Makoto gave a hum and knelt behind her. Though she couldn’t see him clench the bottle, she heard it belch, and then she felt his fingers lace through her hair, his palms smeared with shampoo. He shimmied his fingers to her scalp and began working the shampoo into Kyouko’s hair, drawing it back, toward him. His hands squeezed and pulled, slowly progressing toward the ends of her hair. Occasionally, he extracted his hands to apply more shampoo onto them before continuing.

During all this, she stayed still, staring at the tiled floor, arms crossed and propped on her knees. Kyouko could tell when he finished without him needing to say. Makoto didn’t eject more shampoo into his hands, rather, he played with a strand of her hair, alternating between grinding it between a finger and thumb and winding it around a digit.

Just as she considered questioning him on how long he intended to do this for, he sniffed loudly. That added a more few seconds before she asked, “What are you doing...?”

He let go of her hair. It joined the rest of the violet curtain on her back.

“I... I was checking that I got all of it,” he explained. “It’s so silky...”

“Thank you,” she said, blushing. The dizzy spell that possessed her seemed to have passed, so she rose up. She aimed the shower head away from the floor and rinsed out the shampoo.

Combing through her hair with her fingers, she turned to face Makoto and watched him get to his feet as well.

Makoto stared back, eyes wider than hers. Much wider.

“Do you need to wash as well?” she asked.

“Well, I guess I could,” he said, and he blinked, and then he gave a short laugh.

Cute.

Kyouko stooped down, picked up the shampoo bottle and spurted some of its contents into her hands. Because her hair was long, it had been easier for Makoto to apply it to her hair from behind Kyouko, but as his hair was nowhere near the length of hers, she could face him and do it. Also, this way, the shower water rapped against her back, not her face, sparing her eyes. She drove her fingers through his hair, coating it by sections with the shampoo within her fists.

This caused his hair to stick out in spikes, pointed at different angles, entwined with suds. Kyouko slid her hands to his cheeks, cradling his face. Many would flinch when in contact with hands like hers, but he relaxed, eyelids drooping. Their foreheads bumped together, but rather than recoil, or break away, they maintained contact. She set a hand against the back of his head, and though the room was bright, how they fumbled was like they were in the dark, and it was dark when they shut their eyes. Breathing quietly, they pressed lips, and a wave of warmth rushed through Kyouko that hot water couldn’t produce.

Makoto seized Kyouko’s waist when she started leaning into him more. Touko’s face flashed through Kyouko’s mind, and remembering her advice, Kyouko didn’t push into Makoto beyond what she did now, to lessen the chances of them losing their balance. Shower water splattered onto them, unrelenting, loud against the hard tiles, more muted against skin, though she could only feel it when against skin, even if the falling water felt like nothing compared to his hands, his mouth, his breath, his moan.

They both shifted their weight between feet at the same time. Their lips detached but came together again in a hungrier kiss, as Kyouko pawed at the back of his head, unable to tangle her fingers satisfactorily in his short hair. Makoto wrapped his arms around Kyouko’s waist and opened his mouth. She tilted her head slightly, tongue feeling cramped in her mouth all of a sudden, sort of like she should have been doing something with it. Her fingers loosened in his hair, and one hand flopped onto his shoulder.

Breathing through her nostrils was too much effort. Required too much thought. At least, breathing enough did, and their lips separated, just for a beat, to give her mouth access to some much needed air.

He trailed a hand to her backside. A squeeze down there spurred her on to shrink the gap between their bodies and to cross her arms over behind his neck, in a hug that forced their lips together.

“K-Kyou...ko,” he stammered. She felt him say it.

Her embrace slackened.

“Naegi-kun,” she murmured back, and she unhooked an arm from around his neck, lowering it to his crotch. He inhaled when she curled her fingers around his length.

Their lips hovered close as she pumped him. Kyouko’s body jerked along with the jogging motion of her hand, bumping her lips into Makoto’s in brief but frequent kisses. He tried to reciprocate each kiss, blowing hot air at her, timing off.

She panted almost as loudly as he did. She peeled her body away from Makoto. Down came her other arm from his neck. Away sprung her breasts with a jiggle, freed. Kyouko bent her knees, the hand on his length remaining in that area but crawling up to his base. Her free hand held onto his thigh. For a few seconds, anyway, because then she rested his tip in that hand.

“Can I?” she asked.

“Yes!” he blurted with enough volume that she was compelled to look up. His red face lit a smirk onto her lips, though she didn’t doubt that he had added the same colour to her face.

After all, her face couldn’t be this hot and still be pale.

“L-Let me just,” he babbled, and he just scampered over to a wall so he could lean against it, away from the shower head.

Kyouko shuffled over to him on her knees and cast her eyes to his length. She had touched him there before, not just with her hands, though only once before with her lips. After she pulled some of his skin toward the base of his length, she used those same lips to plant a kiss onto the exposed head.

Makoto emitted a small moan. Her gaze remained downward. Two hands and her mouth seemed excessive, so she removed her hand from his tip and tucked some hair behind her ear. While doing that, she didn’t pause, developing the kiss on his head into a push that took him into her mouth, and her other hand tugged him, starting firm and staying that way.

His groan rumbled in his throat. He disheveled the hair at the top of her head, fingers like spider legs. She batted her lashes, sucking on the head, and rather than prolong the rhythm that she pulsed into him for too long, she clenched him harder with her fist and he fell out of her mouth with a plop.

This didn’t mean she had finished down there, not yet. Kyouko tilted his length vertical, so its tip was the highest point, and licked along his underside, starting at his base. The shower water really hadn’t hit him down there much. Her tongue traced over dry skin, though she coated him with saliva, and when she could only taste her saliva, she peppered his head with kisses before drawing him into her mouth again.

A whine resonated from Makoto, still sounding as he grinded his backside against the wall. He lifted his chin, and his noises disintegrated into a series of grunts. His eyes shut. After she had contented herself with examining his tightened features, she cloaked her vision in her own self-imposed darkness and bobbed her head.

Kyouko couldn’t fit all of him into her mouth, but her hand twisted and tugged the rest of his length, and that coupled with the suction from her mouth and the lapping from her tongue was all that was needed to have him quaking.

Soon after, she pulled back, emptying her mouth, and she pressed circles into her jaw with two fingers.

Makoto opened his eyes when her mouth and hands had been absent for longer than a pause, longer than deliberating warranted. By then, she was at the shower shelf, taking a concave bottle off it which wasn’t the conditioner that went with the shampoo.

She flipped it over in her hands and walked over to Makoto, who looked at the label more thoroughly than he had earlier.

“Silicon... lubricant...?” he read aloud.

“My natural lubrication will have been washed away,” replied Kyouko, peering at the label as well.

“You mean we're going to...?” Makoto gulped. She gave a quick nod. He wavered.

“We don’t have to,” she said.

Makoto flung up his hands and raised his voice a few levels. “No, no! I’d love to!”

One of his eyes closed and he chuckled.

“You took me by surprise, that’s all. You must have spent a good amount of time planning all this,” he remarked, not unkindly.

She twitched one end of her lips. His smile was wider, fuller than hers.

Then,

“Where are the condoms?” he asked, voice as cheery as his cheeks were rosy.

Kyouko’s stomach jolted.

Ah.

She furrowed her brow. “They’re... going to be in my drawer still.”

His smile thinned but didn’t crumble away.

“Give me a moment, Kyouko. I’ll fetch them,” he said. He pivoted on his heel, waved a hand and darted out of the shower cubicle.

Annoyance directed inward strained her face. Kyouko parked her backside against the wall, drenching herself in the shower’s downpour, and released the bottle of lubricant. It smacked against the floor and rolled a short distance.

Makoto wouldn’t be gone for long but she widened her stance, restless, and with her empty hand, spread her lower lips. To start with, she stroked her index finger between her folds, keeping quiet enough that she heard the door creak and the curtain swish. She shot a quick look at him and said, “Borrow my shower gel. Clean yourself.”

Sense flowed up to his brain, but not instantly. Makoto threw the condom wrapper to his feet, grabbed the shower gel off the shelf and got to work on himself. He watched Kyouko as he slathered his hands in the gel, watched her twiddle the hardened peak of one breast while her other hand flicked a finger against herself, lower down. In fact, he watched her so closely that he forgot to do anything else.

Kyouko coughed, skin prickling from how his eyes bored into her. His body straightened sharply and he began massaging himself.

Though she couldn’t judge him, really. She was no less innocent than him when it came to staring. Makoto’s hands roamed over his arms, his thighs, his chest. Heart racing, she licked her lips. Her thighs clenched, clamping on the hand down there. The finger flicks turned into rubs, clumsy and rough, and she squeaked.

That drew his eyes away from the floor and onto her. Stubborn, her eyes locked onto his pair and she dropped her hand from her breast so she could prise apart her lips, giving her finger access to the nub there that, when her finger grazed against it, she trembled almost hard enough to hurt the back of her head on the wall. Some of the water from the shower overhead splashed into her eyes, random droplets gone astray but set straight when she increased the strength of the shower with the dial. She aimed it at Makoto and focused on her throbbing.

With time, the moisture her finger rubbed against wasn’t clean water, or sweat. Kyouko dipped her finger inside of herself, just so she could gather some to drag around the outside area. Then, her finger slid back in, hand positioned so her thumb patted higher up. Her finger didn’t go too far in, twitching against her inner walls, near the entrance, but curling her digit against the right spot intensified her panting. She rolled her head back, thighs pulsing.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, and she decided to check on Makoto, who turned out to be tugging on his length. Upon realising that she noticed, he stopped.

“Don’t mind me,” she said.

“I... I was just-”

Kyouko scooped up the bottle of silicon lubricant and beckoned him closer. He waddled over, still holding his length. She squirted a cold coin-sized dollop into her palm and rubbed her hands together until they felt warm.

“Condom,” she reminded him.

“Ah, right!” said Makoto, and he scampered over to retrieve it.

She bent a finger into her palm, wiping some lubricant onto the end. Makoto returned with the condom no longer wrapped but not on him yet. A tiny bit of lubricant was applied to the tip of the condom, and he shivered as he rolled it onto himself. That done, she stroked his length, and offered him the bottle of lubricant with her other hand. Makoto blinked, only understanding after she gestured toward her crotch and explained, “In case we need it.”

“Oh, right!” Makoto said. His eyes flickered. “Um... do you want to turn the shower off? I mean, it’s not really shower sex if there’s no shower, but...”

“Movies with scenes like this end up giving viewers unrealistic expectations,” she replied, cupping her chin.

“Eh? You’ve seen those kinds of movies?”

Kyouko squeezed his length and applied the rest of the lubricant onto him, face burning. The noise he let loose was a cross between a yelp and a moan.

“It’s just a hunch,” she said. She let go and turned away, to face the wall, and set her hands flat against it. “Before we proceed, smooth some of the lubricant over me. Then I’ll be ready.”

There was a squelch, then smaller ones, and then she felt his wet hand roam her lower regions, spending longest on her sensitive spots that had her wiggle and bite on her lip. After that, he secured a hand onto her hip. Makoto scratched at her lightly as the bottle clomped against the tiles, indicating that he had put it down without dropping it. He straightened up, reestablished a firm grip on her hip and inserted his length into Kyouko.

She cried out, but not in pain. Makoto hesitated, unable to read her mind. To let him know that she was all right, she shunted her hips toward him, groaning. A similar noise rolled out of his mouth and he countered her movement. He reached forward, clasped her breast and here followed a mismatch of thrusts that nearly managed to even out into a steady tempo.

Before they fell into a routine, his length pulled most of the way out, leaving just the head of it inside of her, and she felt his absence greatly. Before she could grumble, he poked in again, and their moans resumed at full blast, skin slapping against skin. Makoto groped at her breast, as he rushed forward and as he was bounced back. Kyouko gritted her teeth, huffing. She led Makoto’s hand off her hip to her clit. Too impatient to let him work out for himself what he should do, like she usually encouraged, she controlled his fingers, rubbing them against herself. He caught on fast, taking over his hand, two fingers pushing in rapid fire.

Her breathing hitched and her lips parted, bumping together as she stammered wordless thoughts. As much as she wanted to bend her arms because of the force from behind, which would slam her face into the wall if she weakened her arms too suddenly, she held strong. At least, for now.

He pinched her nipple and wheezed, “K-Kyouko...!”

Kyouko nearly choked on the air in her mouth. Her arms threatened to give way but she didn’t give in to temptation. She leaned her upper body forward so it was horizontal, so her whole body made a right angle.

Makoto’s hand slid from her thumping breast to her hip and he reversed a little, but he showed no more restraint than previously. Most of the effort of moving, stimulating them both, fell upon him, but he didn’t complain. As was typical of him. He took it in his stride, though his hand got lazy on her clit, the touches less deliberate and more a result of the rest of his body jostling Kyouko.

Between her legs burned, ached, but she didn’t want to take either of her hands off the wall. Kyouko concentrated on the penetration, on how her hips jerked, how he filled her up and stroked her inner walls and ignited sparks that crackled in her throat.

His breaths grew louder, more frequent, with less time between them. With some effort, she glanced back at him. Crimson painted his face, and water plastered his hair down save for his ahoge that was as erect as his penis.

...

Perhaps she had spent too long with Touko earlier, if she thought something like that. Coming up with those kinds of comparisons would prevent her from being able to stay serious around him, so she crammed all thoughts to one corner of her mind and clenched her muscles around Makoto’s length.

He threw back his head, mouth hanging open. His groan cracked.

“N-Naegi-kun,” she said between pants. “Your hand.”

Makoto shifted the hand on her hip slightly.

“Other one,” she said.

His other hand shoved two fingers against her clit and Kyouko sighed, pitch increasing the more he tugged and pressed, and thanks to him, her sigh fell to pieces, into huffs and groans that littered the floor. The thrusts turned into rocking in unison, lacking in collisions, in jolts, but allowing Makoto to focus on her until the throbbing between her legs exploded into spasms that racked through her body. Kyouko screamed, face burning. Everything burning.

Her reaction pulsed into him and he pounded into Kyouko as waves coursed through her body. Though the shower water at no point stopped raining down on her, she could no longer feel it, like it evaporated before it could reach the fire on her skin. She barely thought about it, could barely think with the drumming in her head that matched his thrusts. His fingers etched pink lines into Kyouko’s hips, not hard enough to bleed but enough to sting, and he clapped into her, the noise thunder in her clouded mind.

With that being akin to thunder, his final yell tore through the room lightning bright. The silicon lubricant and her own produced wetness meant that he could ram into her with little resistance, and the only wails from Kyouko were brought on by pleasure.

When he finished and pulled out, Kyouko rested her forehead against the wall and slumped to the floor.

“T-That was,” Makoto paused, having not caught his breath yet, and then changed his approach to what he wanted to say, “Kyouko, you were incredible!”

As tired as she was, she used some leftover energy to flash him a smile.

“Do you,” more panting, “need help getting up?” he asked.

He offered his hand.

Kyouko studied it, her own hand hovering in indecision as thick as the steam around them, but she did grab his hand. After the initial push of standing up, rising the rest of the way was relatively easy. Makoto shone one of his trademark grins at her. She squeezed his hand.

“After all that, we probably need another shower, huh,” he said.

“... Yeah,” she said, and she almost laughed with him.

**Author's Note:**

> o while asahina has no interest in doing things in showers with guys, this does not apply to girls.  
> o naegi and hagakure went with togami at the beginning to buy a new shower curtain.


End file.
